


Party Time

by orphan_account



Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-22
Updated: 2018-11-22
Packaged: 2019-08-27 09:54:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16700251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Leo was first and last. It was the unspoken Rule Number One of their exhibitive sex parties, of which Raphael was the star attraction. The chance to fuck him was what drew the guests—family and long-time friends who had proved their loyalty to the Hamato Clan. Commission by Blackdragon-samaComments welcome and appreciated!





	Party Time

**Author's Note:**

> Like my work? Follow me on [Tumblr](https://freakshowfemme.tumblr.com)

 

Leo was first and last. It was the unspoken Rule Number One of their exhibitive sex parties, of which Raphael was the star attraction. The chance to fuck him was what drew the guests—family and long-time friends who had proved their loyalty to the Hamato Clan. Invitations were not extended to their human family and friends for fear they would not understand. April would hide her face with embarrassment and Casey… It would be _Raph_ who hid his face in embarrassment were Casey to see him strapped onto a custom-built fucking table—legs splayed wide with his swollen tail on full display—practically begging to be stuffed full of dicks like a tweaked-out twink in a low-budget porno.

Regardless of who attended the party, however, the rule remained the same. The first and last fucks of the party were deferred to Leonardo, out of respect, out of fear, out of simple desire for peace, for they knew all too well how Leo would react were someone else to encroach upon his _right_ to Raphael’s untouched tail—he’d cut down the offending party swiftly and efficiently.

Metaphorically speaking, of course. Mondo had never been invited to attend one of the Hamato parties again. They weren’t sure why they had invited him in the first place, to be honest. A nod of respect to the Mutanimals, mostly, for their leader was always invited.

Dark eyes glittering, Slash stared at Raphael from his seat on the threadbare couch. The party had started a few minutes ago, but Leo had made no move towards Raph. The emerald green turtle fidgeted on his… bed, Slash supposed he could call it. It was dark wood covered in thick leather stamped into place with shiny brass studs. It contoured perfectly to Raphael’s body as though it had been made for him—it probably had been. A present from Donatello, even if the artistry nodded to Michelangelo. Perhaps a group effort, with Donatello constructing the base while Michelangelo provided the rich leather and studs. Finally, it would be Leo who lovingly strapped Raphael to the table.

Leo, who was sipping his drink as he watched Donnie and Mikey play video games. Leo, who was well aware that everyone was waiting on him, despite their casual airs. Idly, his eyes slipped over the screen as his brothers stacked colorful blocks. Don was winning by a landslide, even if he found the pervasive smell of Raphael’s arousal distracting. Raph’s quiet whimpers and delicate chirps permeated the lair. His scent lingered, causing Don to drift in and out of focus and allowing Mikey to get a few more blocks on him than normal. After watching the game a bit longer, Leo turned and walked towards his bound brother.

The air tensed, party-goers watching through the corners of their eyes, breath held, as Leonardo strode towards Raphael. Veering to the left at the last second, Leo bypassed Raph altogether, instead pulling his plastron flush with the pinball game directly beside Raph. Don rolled his eyes and went back to Tetris.

Leo pulled the plunger and the heavy, silver ball sprung to life. The machine flashed merrily, screeching with exuberance whenever Leo made a particularly good play.

“Hey,” he said quietly, not taking his eyes from the pinball machine.

Raph flipped his head, snorted, and glared at the floor. “Why you always gotta do this, Leo?”

“It’s fun.”

“Fun for you, maybe.”

“Yeah,” Leo returned, the faintest smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I meant.”

“Asshole.”

Smirking, Leo continued his game, glancing at Raphael from the corners of his eyes when his brother huffed or groaned or cursed. The pinball machine flashed and banged, oblivious to Raphael’s annoyance.

The ball sank and Leo lost a life. Yanking back the plunger, he began his second of three balls. Leo was playing nowhere near his best, only half paying attention to the game. No high scores would be broken with this playthrough. But it did not matter, because the game itself was not important. The pinball machine was merely a tease. Lowering his right arm, Leo stroked Raph’s shell and lost a second life. The smoothness of Raph’s shell had been chipped away over the years. Scuffed against a sidewalk here. Crushed against a dumpster there. Leo’s fingers traced all the lines, cracks, and healed fissures in his little brother’s shell without taking his eyes from the arcade game.

Raph keened under the touch, shifting against the table, rubbing his groin fruitlessly into the supple leather. Every goddamn time Leo did this, playing with him, teasing him. The pinball machine was new, but the method didn’t matter. Leo was delaying the party, making _everyone_ wait, making Raph _wait…_!

Raph slammed his forehead against the bench. He had touched himself for hours before the party, drinking and fingering himself to porn, ramped up so he would be ready when the guests arrived. Now his entire body was alight, begging to be touched, and he just did not have time for Leo’s bullshit.

“Leo,” he whined.

Leo did not look up. “Hm?”

“Please?”

That earned him a look. Raph licked his lips, swallowed, and continued. “I get it, Leo. We all get it, okay? Just… stop playin’ around and do it already!”

“Do what, Raph?”

“Fuck me, you fuckin’ psycho!”

That was all it took. Leo was on Raph. His hands roamed everywhere, in Raph’s mouth, over his muscular shoulders, down his shell, until finally they fisted into Raph’s hips, tearing the thick skin with his strong nails. His erection hung heavy between them, pressing against Raph’s slick, puckered entrance. Leo rammed into Raph and lost his last life.

Experience had taught Leo just how to tilt his hips to bring Raphael to ecstasy. His needy brother whined and churred beneath him, struggling to slam his hips back in time with Leo’s strokes, but the thick, leather straps of his platform prevented the movement. Sex was at Leo’s discretion–the pace, the depth, the duration. Leo pumped mercilessly, hard and fast, until he came seated deep inside of Raph’s tail.

Thick strings of come dripped from Raph’s shaking tail when Leo pulled out, streaking down his thighs to pool in the hollow of his bent knees. He hadn’t come and he knew Leo had meant for that. Some kind of sick, twisted message that Raph was too flustered to catch, because now that Leo had broken the champagne, this ship was setting sail.

Leo staggered away, paused to stop the shaking in his thighs, then plopped between Mikey and Don as though nothing had happened. No rush followed his seating–their guests were more well-mannered than that. But multiple pairs of eyes turned to Raph, watched the cooling semen drip sluggishly from him, and wondered who might be next. Leatherhead deferred to Donatello and Michelangelo, thinking it only polite to let them go first. Hob stretched languidly over the couch, sipping a beer, clearly in no rush.

When Slash clambered to his feet, they all looked at him, but no one said anything. Leo’s eyes followed him longest, mouth creasing in a deep frown, but even he didn’t voice protest to Slash’s approach of Raph. Large hands outlined the subtle curves of Raphael’s body, the sharp, accentuated muscle. So long he’d dreamed about this. The first party invitation had been a godsend. Gratitude welled in him still. With all he’d done, the Hamato clan had still included him. He liked to imagine Raphael had advocated on his behalf, begged his brothers to forgive him, to invite him.

A smirk split Slash’s jagged face. Raphael just wanted him that much. So he liked to think, anyway. He was so much bigger than the other turtles and he could fill Raph up in a way they couldn’t. In a way Raph wanted. _Needed._ Slash would give him what the others could not.

“Hey, Raph,” he murmured, rubbing his palms over the bloody crescents Leo’d left in Raph’s hips. Raph didn’t answer, but Slash didn’t expect him to, not beyond the stream of whines and grunts and little exhales of pleasure as Slash massaged his hips, his rear, up and down his thighs.

Touching Raphael would be more pleasant if only Leonardo’s semen were not there, but Slash couldn’t do anything about it, so he tried his best to ignore it. Just like Leo had ignored Raph’s aching member. Reaching underneath the petite–to Slash, anyway–turtle, Slash grasped Raph’s thick cock firmly. A deep, throaty moan and wiggle of hips was his reward. Slash grinned, so pleased by the response, by the opportunity to make Raph feel good. He stroked him languidly, enjoying the feel of Raph’s straining erection against his palm. His fingertips traced the head, all the thick and thin veins crisscrossing the near purple member.

Raph’s position made it difficult to see, but Slash knew what Raph’s dick looked like. He’d seen it plenty of times, back before he’d been mutated into the turtle he was. No thought was given to little Spike, innocently eating his leaves, when Raph needed to pleasure himself. So Spike had watched with uncomprehending animal eyes as Raphael stuck his fingers inside his hole and stroked his cock to orgasm.

It was random chance that Slash even remembered. But he did, and those thoughts fueled him as he jacked Raph off. He liked it harder around the base, a happy medium between slow, firm strokes and quick jerks. Slash knew exactly how to best pleasure Raph, because he’d learned it from Raph himself. It was only when Raphael whined, breathy churrs filling Slash’s ears, that Slash lined his massive erection up against Raphael’s tail and pushed inside of him.       

The passage was wet and warm and Raphael groaned helplessly with every passing inch. Slash couldn’t put it all inside Raph, even if the little turtle begged for it. But he did take Raph’s cock in his hand and stroked it in time with his thrusts, rubbed it just right for Raphael until both of them were gasping from the pleasure, shaking, sweating, and, finally, coming with muffled exclamations, Slash’s seed rushing in on top of Leonardo’s. It gushed out of Raph’s tail when Slash pulled out and Raph moaned softly, laying his temple against the warm leather of his pedestal.

Slash didn’t want to leave. The couch was so much less appealing than staying here by Raphael, where he could hear his soft pants and smell his sex. But it was another unspoken rule not to crowd Raph and not to linger, so that others might have their opportunity. For those reasons, Slash trailed his hand regretfully over Raphael’s shell, down the backs of his thighs, and finally stalked off towards the bathroom.

As Slash disappeared, Mikey leapt to his feet. Though his cock throbbed within the confines of his tail, he didn’t approach Raph with the intent to fuck him. Later, sure. It was such a trip to see his vicious older brother restrained this like, taking dick after dick and, apparently, loving it. There was probably something emotional happening, something that Don and Leo understood, but Mikey didn’t get.

At the end of the last party, Raph had chosen who he wanted to take care of him. ‘Aftercare’, Leo had explained, was essential. As he’d watched Don and Raph disappear behind the thick, metal doors of Don’s lab, Mikey had realized that he would never be the one Raph picked. It hurt, sure, but that didn’t mean Mikey couldn’t take care of Raph in other ways.

“Hey, Raphie,” Mikey said, smiling as he kneeled by the head-end of the platform. “I got some trail mix and water. You want some?”

“Go away, Mikey.”

“Sure. After you drink some water.”

Growling with annoyance, Raph nonetheless opened his mouth, letting Mikey trickle the cold water inside. The thirst he hadn’t noticed before was suddenly apparent against the appearance of water and Raph drank greedily. Water slopped over his beak and dripped down his chin.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mikey teased, wiping Raph’s face with a soft cloth.

“Shut up.”

“Uh huh,” Mikey planted a kiss on Raph’s forehead. “Whatever. I’ll be back, sourpuss. See what you have to say then.”

When he did return, Raph could say nothing at all. Mikey fisted his hand in Raph’s bandana and thrust inside of his mouth, gagging any contentious comments Raph might feel inclined to make.

Afterwards, Don and Leatherhead took their turns. Even Hob, with a rakish grin at Raph’s yelping against the mutant cat’s barbed cock, partook of Raphael’s generous offer. Leo managed a second round and Slash responded as though Leo had raised a bet. If their bodies had allowed it, the two would have competed for superiority all night, one-upping each other over and over into Raph. But that wasn’t the rule and Slash was forced to watch with silent resentment as Leonardo cupped Raph’s cheek and pounded into his mouth. He held the back of Raph’s head with one hand, his cheek with the other, and came hard down the back of Raph’s throat. Slash looked away, flushing with resentment and arousal he was too tired to act upon. Thick streams of white ran down Raph’s thighs like waterfalls. His cock rested, utterly spent, inside of his body, too sensitive to even touch the leather.

One by one, their friends said goodnight. Leo, Don, and Mikey spoke softly in a circle. Finally, Don and Mikey began picking up the various beer cans and fruit roll-up wrappers while Leo made his way to Raphael. Emerald eyes stared dazedly at nothing. Gently, Leo laid his hand on Raph’s shell and spoke.

“Hey, baby brother,” he murmured, a tender smile peeking from the corners of his lips. “You ready to go to bed?”

Raph grunted and Leo laughed softly. Unfastening the thick, brass-buckled straps, Leo set Raphael free. His brother did not move. After waiting a few minutes, it seemed like he wasn’t going to. After the last party, Raph had gone to bed with Donatello. Leo had tried so hard to keep his face neutral. To keep his jealousy from showing. He hoped that this time Raph would make a different choice.

“Raph?” Leo asked softly, glancing at Mikey and Don from the corner of his eyes. They picked at the party mess, awaiting the decision.

Tossing his head, Raph blew out a long breath. “Yeah, okay, Leo.”

Triumph spiked through Leo. Nodding curtly, he slid his hands under Raph and gently pulled him to his feet. Groaning softly and swaying, Raph fell into Leo, who supported Raph’s muscular weight with silent gratitude. Raph trusted him to take care of him and Leo would do just that. He’d spent so long figuring out how they fit together in contention, opposition, combat. It was a unique pleasure learning companionship, vulnerability laced not with anger but trust. Though his arrogance shone through often enough in his dealings with Raph, he bit it down and showed only his humble gratitude for Raph’s trust.

Sweeping Raph into his arms, Leo carried him bridal-style out of the living room. Mikey snickered and Don elbowed him, pointing towards Raphael’s abdicated throne with one hand. The other shoved cleaning solution into Mikey’s chest. Groaning in protest, Mikey nonetheless slinked towards the platform. Don cleared soda cans and beer bottles into a thick black garbage bag, stepping silently out of the way when Leo passed with Raphael.

If being carried embarrassed Raph, he said nothing of it. Instead he turned his beak into Leo’s plastron, breathing deep against Leo’s chest. Come drizzled over Leo’s arms just from being in contact with Raphael. He didn’t mind, though he knew getting Raph cleaned up was important. Clean, warm, and comfortable. Depositing Raph on his own bed rather than Raph’s threadbare hammock, Leo pressed a kiss to his forehead and excused himself to retrieve the kettle he’d set to boil as their guests had left. Pouring the water into a basin, Leo bathed Raph with warm swipes of soft cloth–encouraging him to open his legs and drinking down the soft moans when he washed Raph’s tender areas–until all the sex and sweat had been washed away.

“How’re you feeling?” Leo asked, ringing the rag out over the basin.

Raph just grunted in response. He didn’t want to talk. Laying the rag flat to dry, Leo slipped between the sheets. Musky sex hung prominently in the air. It wafted from them like gaudy perfume. The whole lair would smell of it for days and they’d tiptoe around it, trying to pretend they didn’t notice. Jasmine incense burned atop Leo’s low desk, but it was a lost cause.

No thought was left in Raphael’s mind. Exhaustion and contentment ran deep within him, as it often did after these parties. Sex parties. Christ. But he would be embarrassed later. Being in Leo’s arms, having Leo’s hands rubbing gentle circles over his shell, made it hard to care. Sometimes Leo whispered to him, pretty, soft phrases here or there. “You’re beautiful” or “I’m so proud of you, Raphie” or “I love you.” No response was given expect for Raph to snuggle deeper into those arms, to push his face into the crook of Leo’s neck and breathe in his scent.

Maybe it was his own self-hatred that made Raph desire the things he did. The cycle of annoyance to rage to blackout to regret to self-hatred. He hadn’t thought too deeply about it. He just knew that it felt good to be wanted, for people to touch him and whisper loving words as they plunged in and out of his body. Orgasms were great, but it filled a deeper need in Raphael than sex, one he didn’t quite understand and couldn’t give voice to. It seemed like his brothers understood and had responded by lavishing praise on him, building him a throne, and throwing parties in his honor like a debutante.

They loved him. Such a simple thing, taken for granted by most, but not by Raph. He was difficult to love but they loved him anyway. Even with all the insults he hurled at Leo, all the times he screamed in his face or even resorted to physical violence, Leo held him, petted his skin with reverence, and whispered sweet nothings against the pillows.

Chuckling, Raph ducked his head into Leo’s shoulder. His brother raised an eye ridge but didn’t comment, just continued to shower quiet affection on Raphael. His hands roved Raph’s shoulders, his shell, his thick thighs, his swollen tail. There was nowhere Leo did not desire, no part of Raph’s body that he did not want to devour. Mikey and Don’s love was purer, less tainted with the dark possession that filled Leo whenever he looked at Raphael. No one frustrated Leo like Raph did and Leo loved no one–was incapable of loving anyone–like he loved Raphael.

If only he could convince Raph of that. Leo tried to press his love directly into Raph’s skin. Maybe it would penetrate, flowing through his veins like medicine to sooth the dark snarls of Raph’s mind, his insecurity, all the known and unknown flaws that Raph thought made him difficult to love. If these parties filled Raph’s unspoken needs, then Leo didn’t mind. He would give Raphael this.

So long as the First and Last rule remained.


End file.
